Stories from the Past England
by dark star17
Summary: The second installment of Stories from the Past - this time set in Medieval England...it's the similar idea to my first one but you don't have to read that to get this one.
1. Chapter 1

Stories from the past: Medieval England  
  
A/N: This is the second part of my 'Stories from the past' series.I hope you enjoy!  
  
Chapter 1  
  
Early summer, 1267  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,  
England  
  
Hermione, daughter of the Earl of Kent, was sitting out by the lake enjoying the cool breeze while reading the Suma Theologica by Thomas Aquinas. It wasn't part of the school curriculum, but Hermione enjoyed reading especially when she was able to do so when so many people were illiterate. She had already read most of the books in the library so now she was reading some muggle books sent to her by her father. Her friends Alice and Eloise were making bracelets out of the dandelions that grew at their feet whilst chatting,  
  
"What are we going to do after we leave school?"  
  
"Mayhap I'll get married. I'll be eighteen next week."  
  
Hermione smiled and laughed softly.  
  
"What do you laugh at?" Eloise asked her indignantly.  
  
"Nothing. Nothing at all."  
  
Eloise sighed and slipped her finished bracelet around her wrist and examined in the bright sunshine.  
  
"Hermione, do you know of any herbs that I may use that will rid me of my bothersome freckles?"  
  
"Why no. I wonder why you should ask me such a question."  
  
"Because," Eloise sighed and turned to face her, "we all know that Potions and Herbology are your favourite subjects."  
  
"I'm a healer Eloise.not a beautician."  
  
"Well you ought to be. What is a girl going to do being a healer? You ought to give up that tiresome herb garden of yours and start creating some rouges and kohl.I hope you do give me a free sample. Will you not?"  
  
"Oh, and do not forget me." Alice added.  
  
"Nay, I do like being a healer. I care not for such trivialities such as rouges and kohl. But I do know how to whiten teeth."  
  
The three girls sighed.  
  
Just then, a group of boys walked past. Hermione and Alice and carefully averted their eyes and covered their legs with their woollen gowns but Eloise winked at them with no shame, showing off her brilliantly white and straight teeth - those were rare in those days. She turned back the her two friends as the boys walked past and smiled,  
  
"I would not mind if I were to be wed to one of those fine fellows."  
  
"Eloise, shh! They may hear you."  
  
"I care not. Mama said that Harold was the crème de la crème of the whole lot. His mother and father were on the good side of King Edward before they died.and now he is the sole heir of their property. Sir Harold, Earl of Essex. And I will be his lady."  
  
"Do not engage in one of your girlish fantasies again Eloise. I do not want to be wed. My father never beat my mama but I know of many that do beat their wives and subdue them. Our roles imposed by our gender are magnified if we are wed. I would rather die an old spinster than give up the little freedom I have now." Hermione said loftily, going back to her book.  
  
Summer, 1267  
Ipswich Castle, Kent  
England  
  
"My lady, you father is gravely ill. Will you do something? He is fevered."  
  
Agnes, her nurse told her quietly when she had arrived home, to Ipswich Castle. Her days at Hogwarts were ended - her days of freedom and learning were gone. And now she was to tread warily around her father, who was so opposed to witchcraft and the memory of her dead mother. Hermione smiled faintly as she looked around the familiar walls of her home, the tapestries made by her grandmother and the silverwares that were laid on the splendid dinning table with her father's ancient carved chair. She could smell the splendid meal being cooked from the kitchen already, chicken with rosemary, almond buns, beef stew.  
  
"My lady? Your father?"  
  
"Oh. Let me see him."  
  
Agnes led Hermione by the hand to William of Granger who lay fevered on his bed, a thin film covered his once bright eyes.  
  
"Joan? What are you doing here? Have I died and gone to heaven as you did so many years ago?" Hermione grasped her father's hand.  
  
"Father, it is Hermione. I am not my mother."  
  
William's shoulders seemed to slack a little and he sighed deeply. "Ah. So you have returned to me from that sinful place of witchcraft." He said as he took her hand. He still loved her dearly. "Have you prayed for forgiveness yet my sweeting?"  
  
"Father, you are very ill. Shall I make a soothing draft for you?"  
  
"No. I forbid you to go about your ways. Call Father Herbert."  
  
"Father.Father Herbert is a priest not a healer."  
  
"And neither are you. I abhor and forbid the ways that you have been taught at that sinful place."  
  
"Father I won't use witchcraft. I'll just make a soothing draft of some herbs from my garden."  
  
Her father merely snorted and closed his eyes and refused to acknowledge her presence. Hermione hung her head and sighed. She knew she could help her father, only he'd never accept it. After placing a kiss on her father's hand, she left the room wearily nearly tripping over the hems over her green woollen gown. Agnes shook her head sadly and followed Hermione out.  
  
"Call Father Herbert." She told Biggs, William of Granger's man.  
  
Father Herbert was a jovial man and had known Hermione since she was but a babe, the fact that Hermione was a witch was a well guarded secret that Father Herbert knew nothing about. Thus he greeted her warmly with a wide smile when he had arrived at the keep.  
  
"Hermione! Back from your studies in France I see."  
  
Father Herbert thought that Hermione was in France studying theology when in reality, she had been at Hogwarts learning magic.  
  
"Father Herbert, father is very ill. Will you not help him?"  
  
Father Herbert sighed. "Your father has had a good life. A long life blessed with riches and a good wife and a good daughter. I have seen this kind of illness in others before and I am afraid I can be of no help but to guide him spiritually."  
  
"Are you saying that father will die?" Hermione gasped, paling. She hadn't thought that her father, so strong a warrior would go so easily. She had always thought he would die in battle in the Holy Land.  
  
"Do not despair. If he does, then he would go to the heavens and be reunited with his wife, Lady Joan."  
  
Agnes undid Hermione's loose braid and combed through her unruly curls with an impatient grunt. "Why did you have to inherit your father's hair Hermione? Your mother had lovely hair."  
  
Hermione smiled faintly at the jest but quickly sobered - her father's ill condition had dampened her spirits and she didn't even enjoy the cook's roast chicken though they were her favourite.  
  
"Agnes?"  
  
"Yes dear?"  
  
"If father were to die.what would happen to me?"  
  
Agnes sighed, "Well you do not have any brothers.your father had better choose a male successor otherwise King Edward would claim the keep and all the other property." Hermione winced as Agnes tore through the length of her hair.  
  
"Gentle! Have patience."  
  
"Quiet child.I'm nearly finished." Agnes gathered Hermione hair and braided in loosely. She then helped Hermione into her night shift and lighted some candles all the while chatting about trivialities. Hermione said nothing but just smiled at her familiar actions; but she thought of her father again and felt like weeping.  
  
"What is the matter? Why are you so grim?"  
  
"Just thinking about father."  
  
"Don't worry sweeting. King Edward is a good man.he'll assign a chivalrous knight to help take care of the keep until you are right for marriage. Then you may choose whom you would be wed to."  
  
"I don't want to be wed. Honestly, why is everyone obsessed with marriage?" she ripped the covers off her bed and slipped in beneath the thin cotton sheets - the summer nights could be quite hot and the shutters were wide open. Outside, she could see the moon and the starts; the crickets and the frogs in the pond were making loud but strangely reassuring noises.  
  
"Who would King Edward assign to look after the keep?" Hermione asked yawning and stretching.  
  
"How would a nurse like me know?" Agnes grumbled impatiently and placed a kiss on Hermione's forehead and patted her head.  
  
"Sleep well child."  
  
With the bright morning sunshine burning her neck, Hermione enjoyed the feel of the cool damp earth of her herb garden. The garden was overgrown with weeds, the herbs spilling from their individual plots; there was a lot of work to be done and Hermione was glad for it; she needed a project to keep herself occupied. It kept her mind from constantly worrying about her father and her future - which seemed very bleak. She sighed deeply as she weeded the garden hoping that her father would recover soon - if her father died then she would know not what to do. Stopping her work for a second and craning her back, Hermione stretched and wiped her sweaty brow with the sleeve of her dress. She looked around the garden. A small area of it was cleared and neat (she had been working on it all morning) but a larger area was wild and needed much more work. Picking up a basket with some harvested herbs, Hermione stood up to tend to another area.  
  
"Ahem."  
  
She whirled around with a small squeal, dropping her basket. Her hands instinctively went to her wand which was concealed in her belt. Her whole body tensed.  
  
"Lady Hermione?"  
  
A young man stood there, dressed in all grey with a wide sword at his side with a whip. He had fiery red hair and bright dark blue eyes, freckles were carelessly sprinkled across his nose and cheeks.  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
The young man looked sheepish and grinned apologetically. He had a full set of teeth and they were white. "I am sorry I frightened you but your people said that you were a healer. Could you help my friend? He is sick in his bowels. I was told by Janet, I suppose she is one of your servant girls, that you would be working on your herb garden."  
  
Hermione narrowed her eyes. "It is true I am a healer. Tell me what your business is and I may help you."  
  
"I am Ronald, son of Sir Arthur. I am here with Sir Rodger - he's my father's friend. We have been dispatched here by King Edward who has heard the news of your father's grave illness. We are to look after the keep."  
  
"Then you are welcome here, Ronald son of Sir Arthur, Baron of Cambridgeshire. Show me to your friend with the bowel problems. I may be able to help him."  
  
"I am sorry for your father's illness. I do hope he gets better." Ronald said, looking over his shoulder.  
  
"I am sure he shall," Hermione replied, not really believing it entirely. She was walking very quickly, trying to keep up with his giant strides.  
  
"Mayhap we needn't even be here if his Lord makes a full recovery."  
  
Hermione said naught but nodded. She didn't want to think about her father. Ronald led her out to the courtyard where Sir Rodger and his men were. The cook had been generous with the ale and some bread; they were all sitting or standing eating ravenously. Save one man.  
  
"Here he is. He is Harold, Earl of Essex."  
  
Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. He was Harold? The Harold that had been in the same year as her at Hogwarts? Harold seemed to vaguely recognise her as well, but he seemed to be in too much pain to notice.  
  
"Are you in much pain, my Lord?"  
  
Harold didn't speak but he nodded wearily. He winced in pain but he refused to make any noises. Hermione sighed and crouched down beside Harold and rummaged around in her herb basket. Ronald looked down at her interestedly.  
  
"Here, I will grind some of this gypsum root and mix it with some ale. It will soothe your bowels. I believe they cramp so because you have eaten something that has not agreed with you." Hermione rose from her position and smiled down at Harold. "Don't worry you'll be a bright as sunshine in no time. I'll get my grinder.um.Ronald? Sir? Could you please get your friend some ale?" With that, Hermione turned, picked up her skirts and ran in to the keep and up the stairs. Ronald and Harold stared after her.  
  
She returned a few minutes later with a ceramic bowl containing ground gypsum root. She took the goblet of ale from Ronald and mixed the powder in, swirling it in with her little finger. "Drink."  
  
Harold took the goblet thankfully and drained it in mere seconds.  
  
"I feel much better already, my lady. You are truly a wondrous healer."  
  
Hermione thanked him, blushing slightly.  
  
"I am Harold but my friends call me Harry. I thank you for your ministrations."  
  
"Thank me not Harold. I here you have come here to see to my father. I am glad of that."  
  
"You may call me Harry."  
  
Hermione smiled.  
  
"And I'm Ron."  
  
Hermione turned around - her braid slapped Ronald in the face.  
  
"Oh I'm so sorry. What did you say?"  
  
"Nothing." Ron mumbled, going red in the face to match his hair. Hermione shrugged and turned back to Harry. How was she going to find out whether he was magical or not without revealing herself to be a witch? She certainly did not want to be hanged.  
  
"My Lady! Hermione!"  
  
Agnes the nurse was running towards her, her skirts up to her knees.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"You must come quickly, it's your father." Agnes told her breathlessly and grabbed her hand and pulled her into a run.  
  
Father Herbert and a grave looking Sir Rodger stood over her father's ancient bed where he lay writhing, his breathing shallow and laboured.  
  
"Father!" tears pooled in Hermione's eyes as she neared the bed.  
  
Father Herbert gently patted her shoulder. "It seems that your father's passing is hard. I am sorry you have to witness this."  
  
"Father. I could make you something to soothe you." Hermione whispered in his ear. He recoiled form her.  
  
"No!" he croaked.  
  
"Will you let me do nothing?"  
  
Her father suddenly grasped her hand and pulled her near him so only she could hear what he had to say.  
  
"Promise me that you will seek forgiveness for your wicked sins. Please, my daughter, so I may see you in heaven."  
  
Hermione couldn't bring herself to say yes or nod. She just stared at her dying father. He looked pained.  
  
"Aye father, I will seek forgiveness." She said. She had committed another sin.  
  
Her father looked relieved and gently closed his eyes. He was gone.  
  
A/N: Hmmm.I am not sure how this will turn out so reviews are welcome! As always. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Oops! I forgot the disclaimer for the first chapter so here goes – anything related to Harry Potter does not belong to me…**

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A/N: Thank you for the reviews! I am aware that I haven't updated in a long time, sorry about that.

The bed in the master's bedroom where her father had died had fresh sheets on and all traces of him were gone from it. Agnes and the other servant girls had taken a long time to air out and change everything so that it was new. Just like the life that Hermione had to start now. She gently pushed the heavy oak door open and peeked inside; Agnes had pushed the shutters wide open to let the air and sunlight in. Ever since Hermione's mother had died, the room had been cold and drab but now the tapestries that hung on the walls and the wood panelling seemed lighter and brighter. The rushes on the floor smelt nice and fresh of rosemary and roses. However, Hermione did not want to go into the room, she was still at it's doorway contemplating whether to go inside or not, imagining her father, ill on the fresh sheets. She shook her head vigorously and a few strands of her curly hair escaped its braid. She shut the door quickly and turned rigidly and walked back to her own room. It had already been two weeks since her father's death – the keep as well as Lord William's other property was looked after by Sir Rodger, and old friend of Sir William's, though it officially belonged to Hermione. She was very wealthy and King Edward was impatiently waiting to marry her off. Hermione however had different ideas. She candidly did not care and worked hours on her herb garden. It was now nice and neat, each type of herb neatly growing in its own little plot. Rosemary, sage, marjoram, mint, dill…also squill, pimpinella, henbane, betony, pennyroyal...a small corner of the garden was devoted to some magical plants which she took care to hide with some bushes of heather. 

One bright summer morning, she was bent over the very bush checking on her plants making sure that they received sufficient sunlight, her back bent over and her hair falling down the sides of her face. She smiled in satisfaction at her plants and straightened her back and stretched her arms over her head and sighed. She crouched back down and frowned at a bit of weed growing between her mint plants and reached behind for pincers; instead her hand made contact with soft leather. She yelped and whipped around, at the same time falling on her bottom squashing a good few mint plants. Her hand grasped for her wand as she shielded her eyes with one hand and looked up. Ron stood there, miles above her it seemed. She scowled.

"What are you doing here scaring me like that?"

"Just looking around." He replied nonchalantly, his hand casually brushing the hilt of his sword. Hermione frowned and 'hmph'ed. She rose and smoothed her skirt and dusted her bottom. She looked back and cried in dismay. Three of her mint plants were broken and bent. She huffed angrily, giving a glare to Ron and bent over again tried to stand her plants up. Ron tried not to look concerned but peered at her through the corners of his eyes. 

"Would you like some help?" he asked, kicking some earth up with his booted feet.

Hermione glared.

"Aye, just leave." She said bitingly.

He reddened. 

"Stop kicking the earth." She said in a reprimanding tone.

Ron ceased. 

Hermione was paying no attention to him but kept tutting and frowning.

"Why are you working on this herb garden anyway? What good are these herbs?"

Hermione sighed exasperatedly. "Are you not leaving?"

Ron raised an eyebrow.

"Herbs are what make your meats tasty. I noticed you especially enjoyed the pheasant yesterday during dinner; this," Hermione brandished a sprig of rosemary in Ron's face, "is what makes the pheasant as tasty as it is. And it is also what cures your pains. " She placed her hands on her hips. "Anything else sir?"

"No madam." He turned and left in huge strides, leaving huge foot prints on the damp earth, his cloak swishing imperiously about his ankles. Hermione was vaguely aware that she may have offended him but shrugged and told herself that she had extra work to get through because of him.

"Agnes, when are these tiresome people leaving? Those men asleep in the great hall among our people…they do not belong here."

Agnes again, was having a battle with Hermione's hair.

"Sweeting, they will leave when there is a new master at Ipswich."

Hermione's head was jerked back when Agnes had reached a particularly stubborn tangle, "Ipswich does not need a master. It has a mistress. Me. Am I not sufficient enough to run the place?"

"Aye my lady, but you do not train the men and you do not protect the village and the lands from outlaws. All you can do is to run the keep."

"Sir Rodger is nice enough…he has known me since I was but a child. But the men he brought with them…"

"They are just men, child. Leave them be."

"One of them, Ronald I think he is, trampled my herb garden and did not even apologise for it. I was outraged. He is so obtuse."

"All men are dears. Now hold still. I think mayhap if I braid your hair tightly it will stop waving about and stay in place."

"Nay Agnes, you have tried that many times but it failed miserably each time. Stop it, you are hurting my scalp!"

Agnes but grunted and continued with her task.

"Mayhap I should go down and talk to the cook. He hasn't told the baker what bread we want tomorrow morning. If I give the men hard floury bread, they might leave."

"They won't. Stop moving for Saint Catherine's sake!"

"I hope that Ethel the cow won't give us any milk tomorrow morn. If the men don't have any milk they might leave. Or," Hermione turned to face Agnes. "I could put a little something into the bread so when the men break their fast they get a nasty little surprise…"

Agnes frowned and cursed but Hermione could see a small smile forming at her lips.

"I wish I was back at school, Agnes. I really do."

"Come now, you really can't be serious? There is no place better than home."

Hermione shrugged and she reached to pull up her cotton shift that had slipped off her shoulders. 

"It's very mundane here."

"Don't worry. We'll liven the place up a bit more. Why don't we have a feast in honour of Sir Rodger and his men who have been guarding the keep so excellently?"

"You are asking me to prepare a feast for people who I want to drive out of this place?"

Agnes looked at her in an exasperated way, putting her hands on her hips. "Now Hermione, be agreeable. You are so stubborn sometimes."

When Hermione came down the stairs the next morning, the invaders of her keep were enjoying her bread and her milk; she tried hard not to frown. Her spirits were lifted when Sir Rodger waved to her. She smelled the fresh rushes and nodded, she was running the keep wisely was she not? She sat down on the lady's seat next to the lord's seat, which was empty and poured herself a goblet of Ethel's milk. She wondered when that seat would be occupied again as she tore a little bit of bread and popped it into her mouth. Sir Rodger leaned over,

"Hermione, you are having a visitor to day."

"What visitor?"

"Lord Hurst is coming to visit you with his two sons."

Hermione's mouth dropped open. She knew why they were coming but she still felt she needed to clarify that she was perfectly happy living the life she was living now. Well, almost.

"His visit shall be in vain." She said plainly returning to the meal. "Excuse me Sir Rodger, I must instruct cook on how to prepare the midday meal if we are having visitors." She hastily stuffed the rest of the soft bread into her mouth and rose, pushing her stool back with a loud scrape.

"Cook! Alert the baker. We are having visitors today."

Sir Rodger shook his head. The girl was not at all brought up properly. Too headstrong and spoilt in his opinion. But he did like her for it.

"Could you pass the cream?"

Sir Rodger turned and found Ron with a large piece of bread, giving him an enquiring look.

"Stop eating Ronald. At the rate you are going we are going to run out of food and Lady Hermione will have your head."

Ron shrugged and reached for the pot of cream. "She's already made acquaintance with me and I think we shall get along just fine."

"Really?"

"Yes." Said Ron decisively. "I made her fall on her mint plants and she hardly yelled. She had a sweet temperament that girl."

"I can tell you are being sarcastic."

"Well so I made a little blunder. Then she's mad all of a sudden like some fury's gotten into her."

Sir Rodger nodded wryly. "I would be careful were I you."

"Why?"

"You have a way to infuriate women. Even my wife, the sweetest of all females cannot stand you."

"She's a dear."

"Anyhow, I am going out. There is a small hole in the outer wall of the keep that I must see too. And you shall come as well."

"I'll come when I finish breaking my fast."

"You didn't have much of a fast Ronald. You better thank the lord above that Lady Hermione didn't find about your midnight feast."

"Actually, she did." Hermione said walking up behind Ron, he swivelled in his stool. "Cook told me about it." She said curtly. "If you are displeased with the amount of food provided here at Ipswich Castle Sir Ronald, you can leave."

Ron turned beet. 

"Now, now Hermione don't be so cruel. He is still a growing boy."

"Sir Rodger, I am going to the loom shed. When our visitors arrive please alert me." With a flick of her braid Hermione walked out of the great hall.

"I told you she was a sweet girl." Ron said as he turned back to his meal.

"I'm sure she'll be nicer…by Saint Michael I hope she does. She's still a little cold after her father's death. It is hard to loose your kin."

Ron nodded wisely.

"Ron pass the cream."

"Harold. Lady Hermione doesn't like it when we eat all her cream. Control yourself man!" Ron said sternly while scooping up a generous helping on to his bread.

A/N: Don't worry more interesting things shall happen later. This is just the beginning so bear with me please!  


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I know I haven't updated in ages – and I am sincerely sorry. Anyway, continuing on with the story – you might want to read the previous chapters to remind yourself what is going on here.**

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**Disclaimer: If HP was mine, I wouldn't be writing this now. Yeah…it's not mine.**

Hermione was humming to herself gently, spinning wool for the servants' tunics. It was a soft grey colour that her mother had liked so much and had insisted everyone wear. Agnes sat on a stool opposite her chatting to her. It was dark in the loom shed and a bit dingy – it hadn't been used in a good while and Maria, in charge of the wool was bit of a delinquent. 

"I'm sorry my lady," she kept on repeating.

Hermione waved off her apologies and wearily began to spin, after a good few mess-ups, as spinning wasn't part of the curriculum at Hogwarts. She had finally got the basics of it when she was interrupted. A frown crossed her brow.

"What is it?"

"The visitors are here. They've come."

Hermione rose reluctantly from her stool.

"The rushes in her must be changed Maria." She told the girl while leaving, Agnes followed her.

Lord Hurst had two sons with him; one was a stocky well built man and the other was a thin wispy looking boy. Neither of them appealed to Hermione much. She made them welcome and treated them to the noon day meal, hoping that they would leave. 

No such luck.

The guests had made themselves comfortable, already drinking her ale and eating her meat flavoured with her herbs. Hermione was never a selfish girl but she did like to be respected. And she was the mistress of her father's fortune now. She didn't need a husband to keep unwelcome visitors out. Did she? Well, apparently, according to Agnes, she did.

"Make them leave Agnes!" Hermione hissed in her ear during dinner. The three 'gentlemen' were all merrily drunk and were groping at her maids.

Hermione cringed. 

"Hermione, they won't leave until you explicitly tell them to leave. Even then…" Agnes trailed off and lowered her voice further. "They might not respect you enough."

Hermione glared at her three visitors. 

Damn them.

Lord Hurst grabbed a serving girl's bottom. Hermione stood up and cleared her throat.

"My Lord." 

Lord Hurst turned his drunken eyes toward her. "Yes m'lady?" he slurred.

Hermione turned her head disgustedly and briskly walked out of the hall.

Lord Hurst laughed. 

Hermione's hands fisted at her sides as she turned back to face him.

"My Dear Lord Hurst – I am sure you have had a fine time here at Ipswich castle but our ale is running low and our meat turning scarce. I am afraid we cannot accommodate you further and must ask you to leave."

Lord Hurst blinked stupidly and stood up shakily. "Pardon m'lady?"

"I said,"

"Father, it is plain that Lady Hermione cannot accommodate us further at her castle. She has been thoroughly generous already and I think," one of his sons began uncertainly

"It doesn't matter what you think boy!" Lord Hurst snapped at his son and turned back to Hermione. 

"But my dear lady…you are without a Lord." He said mockingly.

"I really don't see how that matters."

"Oh but it does…our King Edward wishes…"

"I know what his majesty wishes. But I will make the choice myself in due course and to put it frankly, you have overstayed your welcome. I would therefore prefer you leave early next morning."

Hermione lifter her head a little and stared at Lord Hurst straight in the eye. 

Lord Hurst burst out in to loud laughter. "Why Lady Hermione, you are doing an excellent job of running the keep…I really don't see how King Edward had to send us here to 'test you' as he put it." Lord Hurst continued laughing, followed by his sons.

Hermione started to redden. The king has overlooked her and sent three men to TEST HER?!

"Oh don't worry – I'll give an excellent report back to the king." Lord Hurst winked and sat back down at the table. Hermione had no idea what to do and just decided to leave.

"Oh come now, Lay Hermione – don't leave the feast now." Several people form the table said merrily. The soldiers had gone back to groping her maids. 

Men. 

They never change.

Next day, Lord Hurst and his sons left, Hermione bid them farewell and told them they were welcome to stay anytime they chose.

"I have to say Agnes. I have never been so glad to see the back of someone before. Now if I could only convince the others to leave as well…"

"Well it is nice to have one's house to oneself again."

"Not quite." Hermione looked over her shoulder to the myriad of men. They were still eating her food.

Harry came up to her quite urgently, looking anxious.

"Could you help me?"

"What is it?"

"Ron is sick."

Hermione was almost heartless enough to say "Let him fester and die then.". But Harry was giving her a pleading look. 

"Alright then. Where is he?"

Harry led Hermione up the solar stairs in to the men's quarters. The men's quarters were quite crowded – which explained why they so frequently spent their nights drinking away down at the great hall. Ron occupied a bed next to the windows, which was a blessing for him – the cool breeze ruffled his fiery hair while he groaned.

Hermione examined him for a few minutes and recognised immediately his symptoms as dyspepsia. Otherwise know as indigestion. But she frowned in mock concern and examined him for a longer time sighing and tsking.

"Well it looks like a serious case of dyspepsia." She said grimly.

"Is it bad?"

"Oh yes." She replied, nodding fervently, her brown eyes twinkling mischievously.

Ron looked greener and sicker than before. "Is there a cure?" he gasped.

Hermione crossed her arms clinically and tried to look grim. "Yes…but only the strongest of men survive it."

Harry blanched.

"He will have to take some bitter herbs…and stay off food for a week at least and drink nought but water."

Ron didn't look happy and raised himself on his elbows. He looked a little suspicious – no doubt he was under the impression that food was good. Under any circumstances.

"Are you sure?"

"Well, if you don't want my help…" Hermione shrugged and turned away. Harry grabbed her arm.

"He's just being stupid. Shut your cakehole Ron."  Harry pushed Ron back on the bed.

"What does he have to do?"

Hermione was touched by Harry's concern for his friend. 

"Just a few days off solids. It's mild really. But don't tell him that or else he'll start gorging himself again." She whispered in Harry's ear. 

Ron was looking at her with his eyes narrowed from the bed.

After giving Ron some herbs, Hermione went into her room and bolted the door and crawled under her huge four poster bed. From beneath it, she pulled out a big wooden chest – filled with her magic things. She took out her carefully hidden wand from the folds of her robes and tapped the chest lid three times. The lid sprang open, revealing her hard-gotten books and her potions supplies, telescope, charts and her prized invisibility cloak. She fingered the watery silky material for some time and carefully took out her potions supplies. She had promised to send Alice some freckle remover. Out side her window, she could see her owl perched upon the willow branch. She looked Hermione a little reproachfully, as if accusing Hermione that she had to stay outside and live in a tree and not a cage like all civilised delivery owls did. Hermione smiled and opened the window,

"Don't worry; I'll give you something to deliver to Alice later." She gave the owl a gentle pat and went back to her cauldron.

Muttering to herself, Hermione carefully brewed the potion and poured it into a vial and corked it with a little stopper.

"There." She said satisfactorily. She took out some parchment, quills and ink from her drawer to write Alice a short note but jumped a mile when she heard a knock at her door and nearly knocked over the vial. Fear ran through her, she was sure to be burnt at the stake if someone were to run into her brewing a potion. Trying to keep her voice steady, she cleared her throat,

"Agnes is that you?"

"It's Ron."

Her eyes went wide.

"Just, just wait a moment please!"

Hermione looked around her room in panic. With a wave of her wand, she put out her magical fire and grabbed the cauldron and pushed it under her bed. Grabbing her chest of potions supplies, she shoved that under the bed too.

"Lady Hermione?"

"Ow!" she bumped her head against the bed post in her haste to get up from her crouching position.

"A moment pleases kind sir!" she called out.

She banged her lid shut and kicked the chest under her bed, hurting her foot. Finally, she straightened her gown and brushed her unruly curls out of her face and unbolted the door. 

Ron looked a little better, but was holding some nasty looking brown pellets in his hands.

"Am I supposed to eat this?" he asked in a half disgusted manner.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. 

"Yes."

Ron's face screwed up in disgust.

"It looks like rabbit droppings!"

"It's dried bitter herb paste. It will help you."

Ron did not look convinced.

"Alright then, come here – I'll crush them for you into a powder – then you might put it in water or your porridge." Hermione led Ron in to her room and sat him down on a stool. 

"Wait a moment please." 

She opened her drawers and took out her ceramic grinding bowl.

"Here, give me the herbs."

But Ron was paying attention to something else. He was staring up at her drawers, mouth open in silent recognition. Hermione followed his gaze and found her wand.

Oh dear.

**A/N: I think that was a cliffy – but we all know the Ron's a wizard too so Hermione can't be in THAT much trouble. Review!**


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